


Lost, Found, Protect and Heal

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Sam, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Past Violence, Minor Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dean Winchester, Spoilers are slight but could be there, Tags May Change, Top Dean, Triggers, implied possible PSTD, implied/mention of past non-con or sexual abuse, protective older brother dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: A slightly different take on a scene from 13x11 Breakdown. When Sam is kidnapped during the hunt for Donna’s niece it sends Dean on another type of hunt as he hurries to save his brother from a madman and then he must find a way to help Sam heal afterward when memories of other darker times resurface as a result of Clegg’s torture.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Dean/Sam
> 
> Warnings: The usual for language, eventual explicit content (Chapter 3 as far as sex goes), possible triggers for graphic physical violence, mention of past non-con, and other mentions of past abuse or violence.
> 
> Tags: 13x11- Breakdown
> 
> Spoilers: Maybe a few but if you haven’t seen the episode yet this is a slightly different spin on some of it and the results.
> 
> Beta’d By: JaniceC678
> 
> Author Note: So this is a slightly different spin on that scene in the episode that shows a bit more of what might have happened if Dean hadn’t arrived when he did as well as the healing that Sam went through afterwards. 
> 
> The story is complete but I will be updating weekly.

**Lost, Found, Protect and Heal**

**Chapter One**

From the moment his father placed his six-month-old baby brother into his arms and told him to run out of their burning house and not to look back, it seemed to Dean Winchester that his life’s motto had been set in stone: protect Sammy.

From that night, the one rule that always stayed the same in Dean’s rulebook was, if anyone or anything touched or hurt his brother, then that person or monster, in most cases, would end up bleeding. To the hunter’s way of thinking, if he lost Sam to either an evil monster or evil human, then Dean would spill blood or rip out the lungs of anything or anyone who kept him from finding his younger brother and protecting him like he’d vowed to do so many times growing up.

The hunter inside the elder Winchester had been furious when the punk ass vampire not only led them into a damn trap and bit Doug but then threw it in his face that not only was the so-called FBI man, Clegg, behind the butterfly killer, but he had also grabbed Sam. The older brother inside Dean had gone into pure locate/find/protect mode the second he’d heard his brother had been taken, knowing that he was in serious danger of having his body parts auctioned off on that sick, online crap auction they’d seen, and that time was short.

He was furious with himself for not seeing Clegg for what he was, as well as angry that they hadn’t suspected the little twerp of a clerk-turned-vampire for having more to do in the case. All Dean wanted was to kill the vampire punk and get on the road to tracking down his brother. Unfortunately, first he had to blend up the disgusting concoction that would cure Doug of being a vampire.

He fought down the frustration and fear that twisted in his gut at the delay, knowing he could not leave Doug like that, if for no other reason that he knew Sam would never forgive him. Grabbing Twilight-wannabe’s blood, he quickly mixed the potion while Donna got the location of where Clegg had taken Sam -- as well as, they hoped, Donna’s missing niece -- before it was too late.

Not taking the time right then to properly dispose of the now-dead vampire punk’s body, Dean had merely wrapped it in plastic and tossed it into the Impala’s trunk. He figured he’d have more bodies to dispose of soon anyway, especially the bastard who put his hands on his little brother.

Leaving Donna to administer the antidote to Doug in the backseat, Dean drove as fast as he could while trying to not dwell on what they’d seen of that other auction…what Sam could be now facing. Knowing he had lost precious time dealing with the potion to save Doug, Dean prayed he would not be too late to save his brother.

Dean had grabbed the vamp’s laptop and figured out how to get the thing to bring back up the auction site. Then he wished he hadn’t. The man wearing a half pig mask was bragging about the next special auction up for grabs, but Dean’s entire focus was on a bruised, bloodied Sam strapped to a metal table in the background. He watched in horror as pig guy -- Clegg, Dean was certain from his voice and build – moved to the table and slowly drew a jagged knife down his brother’s chest slicing easily through his shirt and drawing a gasp of pain from Sam.

“Oh, hell no! This is so not happening on my watch,” Dean growled, foot pushing the accelerator as far as he could and tightening his fingers on the wheel until the leather began to make noise. “Hang on back there. We’re running out of time.”

Donna had looked over the seat to where the laptop was sitting on the passenger side and her eyes widened in horror at what she was seeing. It was fairly obvious that the man in the half pig mask was Agent Clegg just by his voice, and she recognized his shirt, but it was the half-torn, blood-soaked, formerly white shirt on Sam Winchester that stole her breath.

Deciding she didn’t want to imagine how badly the younger Winchester had already been cut, she happened to look down at some of the comments and had to be quick to sit back or else risk throwing up. “Did you…the comments…what…why are they so much worse than they even were before?” she asked, shocked by what she was seeing, but then realized she already knew the answer. Dean’s jaw clenched as he gave a quick glance to the laptop to eye a few sick comments coming up about which parts of his brother’s body should be cut off first and how much one of the monsters bidding would pay if Clegg were to keep Sam conscious and alive thru the very worst of it.

“They know who he is,” replied Dean grimly. “Some monsters might not know us by sight, but they do know our names. Sam Winchester? That son of a bitch would know there would be a bidding frenzy as soon as they heard the name.” Dean’s voice was hard, lethal, as he heard Sam fight back a cry of pain when the knife cut across his stomach. “For them to see him like this? Strapped to that table? To know he’s alone and under a knife? They want to see blood. They want to hear my little brother scream on camera and watch as that bastard cuts off pieces of him to sell to the highest goddamn bidder.

“Clegg is playing it up. He’s cocky because he doesn’t think his little vampire buddy would sell him out, so he’s going to see how much cash he can bring in while he basically tortures Sam.” He shot another look down to the screen and felt his temper spike in a way that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “The mistake he made, other than grabbing my brother in the first goddamn place, was drawing this little nightmare out long enough for me to find his goddamn ass. Because now I will show him and remind every monster on that screen why you do not fuck with my little brother and expect to live long enough to brag about it!”

The Impala took the final turn on two wheels before screeching to a halt in front of a large, worn-out, old warehouse that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. “Do you want…?”

“Go find Sam. I’ll look for Wendy.” Donna knew she didn’t have the years of experience with hunting as the Winchesters did, but she also knew the offer that Dean was about to make was out of duty. She knew where the hunter’s head as well as his heart was and had no intention of distracting him any longer. “Watch your back, huh?” she said once they were inside the building.

“You too,” Dean returned.

Dean pushed his concern for Donna down, trusting that the sheriff-turned-hunter could take care of herself, and turned his entire focus to finding Sam and fast. The worried and pissed-off big brother in him warred with his hunter instincts, and he had to fight not to just go charging in blindly to get to Sam as fast as possible.

“Hang on, Sammy. I’m coming for you, and that bastard will pay,” Dean vowed in a tone that anyone who knew him meant that someone would soon be bleeding for touching Dean Winchester’s little brother. ****

“You know he’s not coming don’t you, Sam?” Agent Clegg remarked with a smirk as he took a break in goading his online audience into ever higher bids by torturing his helpless captive to wipe the blood off his knife on a piece of Sam’s ripped and bloodied shirt. “Even if Dean is still alive, if my little vampire friend didn’t just kill him or turn him, he won’t be coming to save you this time. You’ll be dead and cut into itty bitty pieces before he’ll even find us.”

Fighting against the waves of agony shooting through his body from the numerous cuts the so-called FBI man had made even before starting the auction, he had managed to not give in to the urge to scream. He was Sam Freakin’ Winchester and he refused to give either Clegg or whoever the hell was watching online that much satisfaction.

From the second he woke up strapped to the bloody table to see Clegg instructing his accomplice on how to set up the video camera, Sam was furious at himself for not seeing the lies that had been right in front of them from the start. In all the years that they’d been butting heads with the FBI, never had any actually beaten them to the scene of a crime like Clegg had. They’d also never had one as confrontational as Clegg had been the moment he’d laid eyes on Dean. True, there had been Henrickson, who had been a huge pain in their asses, but he had been in a class by himself when it came to Winchester obsession, and actually believed them to be killers, so that was pretty much his job. At least he hadn’t wanted to sell them for spare parts. Clegg wasn’t supposed to have known who they were, so Sam guessed his attitude should have been a warning, although admittedly Dean did just have that effect on some people, which is probably why Sam didn’t think much of it at the time.

Another red flag had been how the man had been solo instead of having even another agent with him. An agent that had spent 12 years on a serial killer case like the Butterfly should have had a partner with him at least but it didn’t seem like he had anyone.

The biggest red flag to Sam now was the planted bloody shirt on the traveling pastor. Clegg had been too confrontational with the man, too willing to overlook the rules, and now Sam even wondered if the man was even a fed. Once Donna had come out of the room, it had been plain the shirt had been planted, and Sam knew if he had been more focused on the case and not on his own inner turmoil that he might have seen Clegg for what he was…a danger.

Sam wasn’t sure whether to be angry or disappointed with himself that he’d failed one of the first things his brother had taught him: never let his guard down around anyone while working a case, be it apparent allies or enemies. He not only let Clegg get in close enough to knock him out, but he also left his brother and Donna alone with an enemy they had no idea to even suspect.

Tensing his arms once again to see if he could break the heavy leather straps binding his wrists to the table, Sam pushed down the gut-wrenching dread at the mention of Dean possibly being dead already or being turned into a vampire again. That nightmare was still one thing the younger Winchester hated to remember much less think too hard on.

A sudden searing pain up his arm caused the hunter to gasp, but Sam was still managed to bite back the scream that he knew Clegg was longing for as he switched to a different blade, a thinner one with a skinnier blade that Sam knew was meant to filet fish…or skin.

Sam wasn’t sure how long it had been since Clegg knocked him out or even where he’d brought him, how far from Dean it was even if his brother was still alive. He knew the man had been cutting him, making both short, shallow cuts as well as deeper and longer ones for over an hour, so that also told Sam that, unlike the auction they’d been shown back at the diner, Clegg planned to draw this out as well as do things differently in other ways it seemed.

“Normally, we just take bids on full limbs, like arms, legs, torsos, as well as organs. But in this case, since you’re such a high-profile and very popular donor, I think I’ll make an exception and auction off pieces of you,” Clegg said conversationally, his lips turning up into a slow, sick smile while running the tip of the blade down Sam’s face, tsking when the hunter jerked it aside and grabbing a handful of Sam’s hair to jerk it painfully back.

“You and your big brother are legends, Sam. Every monster out there living their normal lives thanks to me knows who the Winchesters are. They will pay big for pieces of you,” he sneered while leaning closer so his face, half covered by the pig mask, was close to Sam’s. “They will pay big to see me cut your skin off slowly, peel you like a peach, so I can sell your skin. Then I will cut your fingers off one by one before I measure each arm and leg to six-inch sections and cut you up into very small pieces before I even get to the good stuff.”

Clegg tightened his fingers in Sam’s hair to yank it closer to him as he dropped his voice as if not wanting the camera mic to pick up his words. “These sorry losers will pay a lot of money to watch me bleed you slowly and make you scream. And you WILL scream, Sam. I promise you that.” He ran the sharp tip of the filet knife down the length of Sam’s neck, applying enough pressure to break the skin so blood welled up enough that he could gather some on his finger to lick off with what could only be described as a demented smile. “Your blood tastes good, Sammy. I wonder what the rest of you tastes like?”

Shock was starting to set in, so it was getting harder for Sam to fight back against the agony each new cut caused on top of the pain from all of the other lacerations. His stomach was twisting sickly a lot more but he couldn’t be sure if that was due to loss of blood, fear, shock, or just plain sickness caused from Clegg’s words and actions.

Unable to jerk his head away from the tight grip the man still had of his hair, Sam refused to give up the hope that Dean would come, but he also realized the odds were slim of his brother finding him in time. Facing the fact that Clegg was going to torture him for hours while keeping him alive, skinning him and cutting pieces off to sell to the highest bidder, the hunter decided, since he couldn’t break the straps holding him, that he’d go with Plan B and hope it worked, since he would rather die quickly than suffer through what Clegg had in mind, much less be used as bait for his brother.

“Go to hell!” Sam gritted out between clenched teeth, spitting into Clegg’s face and grunting as a hard fist was returned against his jaw. “Kill me, Clegg! Kill me now, because I’m not begging you. I won’t scream for either you or those freaks on that screen, you sick son of a bitch. And if you think you’re going to use me as bait for my brother, the minute he gets here, you’ll be dead, so you might as well …ugh!”

Punching the hunter again in the face, Clegg sneered down at the blood that trailed from Sam’s mouth and nose while reaching for something on a nearby tray. “I don’t want you as bait for your so-called hero, Sam. I figure by now Dean’s dead, or wishing he was, so your big brother is the last thing on my mind,” he admitted while grabbing a hold of Sam’s hair again to jerk his head back to where he wanted it as he held what he’d grabbed up where the tensing hunter could see it. “I also know you won’t beg -- at least not yet -- but you will scream for me and all these well-deserving monsters watching us. That said, this first work will require some concentration if I don’t want to ruin the merchandise, so I think gagging you for the moment will be much better for all of us.”

Sam had a second after trying to clear his vision to see the large, evil-looking bit gag. He had a moment of panic since, of all of his phobias and issues, one of his worst, even at times when he wasn’t about to be tortured to death was with gags. He instinctively tried to keep his jaw closed, but lost that battle when another brutal fist slammed into his head and Sam felt the heavy bit shoved between his teeth while the leather straps were quickly tied to prevent him for spitting it out.

“Good boy,” Clegg smiled, ignoring the hate he easily saw in the hazel eyes that were becoming glassy with shock as he picked up his filet knife. “It’s been a long time since I’ve skinned a living person, so it might take me a few practice strips to get it right,” he spoke to the laptop after a quick glance showed him that he had a very rapt and interested audience. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?” With quick movements, Clegg sliced away the remnants of Sam’s bloodied shirt, letting it fall to the floor and studying the exposed flesh as an artist might look at a canvas while planning his masterpiece.

Deciding the bit in his mouth might not be a bad thing now, Sam had to bite down hard as well as jerk his head away to avoid seeing a thin strip of skin on the back of his hand raggedly be cut away, the wave of agony threatening to drag him into unconsciousness, which also might not be a bad thing right about now.

Sam had a brief flash of watching his father and Bobby skin fish they’d caught after a day of fishing one afternoon and realized with a horror he hadn’t felt in a number of years that that was what was basically about to be done to him. In a flash, that quickly morphed into the far more terrifying memory he had, for the most part, managed to brutally squash down over the past several years, of the absolute and unbearable agony of having experienced the same thing, repeatedly, while locked in the cage without even being allowed to pass out from the pain. In the years that he’d been hunting, there had been several times when Sam had come across the worst types of monsters of both natures: real and human. He’d been used as bait, bled by ghouls, bitten by vampires, tossed around by ghosts, and beaten by any number of other monsters. The events at the home of the Benders still were things that kept the hunter awake at night along with the centuries of torture in the cage by two pissed off archangels. He realized with a growing sense of despair that he was about to relieve some of the worst of those horrors. He just prayed that this time, he would mercifully pass out sooner rather than later.

Pain seared up Sam’s now bloody arm as he finally couldn’t hold back the muffled scream of agony as Clegg peeled off a long, thin strip of skin from his right arm to hold it up proudly before repeating the procedure to remove a smaller piece of skin off of the weakly straining hunter’s side, laughing as he did so.

“Good. Good. I knew you’d scream for me eventually, Sam,” Clegg looked up from examining the now raw flesh under the first surface layer of skin he’d removed. “You lasted longer than most of my donors. They usually are screaming from the first view of the knife, but you held out a lot longer. Your hero would be proud of you, I’m sure, but then I shouldn’t have expected anything less from one of the legendary Winchesters. I wonder, if I took the gag out, would you beg me now?” he smirked, running the bloody tip of the knife over the bit in Sam’s mouth and allowing it to press into the soft skin under the hunter’s left eye. “Would you beg if I were to pop this eye out, or do you still believe your brother is coming to your rescue?”

Clegg had read all the files on the Winchesters, public as well as those that were not so public, and had heard all of the stories told about the hunters. He wasn’t sure he believed all of them, but he had to admit the younger one was holding up far better than he’d originally guessed he would. Maybe the stories were true after all. Either way was fine with him. He was raking up a large amount of cash which was all that really mattered to him. And the notoriety he’d gain from being the one to end the Winchesters? That would increase his status within the monster community as well as his income well into the future. Sam managed a glare at his torturer. “He’s gonna kill you, you son of a bitch.” Even through the gag, the words were clear albeit muffled. Sam knew it may not be in time to save him, but he had no doubt in his heart that the words were true.

“Dean’s dead or dying, Sammy. I told you before that he was the last thing I’m worried about and certainly the last thing you should expect to see…well, while you can still see, that is,” he laughed, amused at his own humor. He paused, studying his victim and planning his next move. Sam was just barely conscious, his body no longer straining against the straps holding him, and Clegg wanted to give him a moment to recover. He did not want this ending too quickly with Sam passing out. When his glassy-with-shock eyes had managed to lift enough as if to look at something past Clegg’s shoulder, the man just tsked again sounding amused. “What’re you looking at, hunter? What do you think you’re seeing that you aren’t, or…”

“He sees me, asshole. Now ask yourself how worried you really should be.”

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Lost, Found, Protect and Heal**

**Chapter Two**

“He sees me, asshole. Now ask yourself how worried you really should be.”

Agent Clegg had been sneering down at his helpless captive, enjoying that, even now, the boy still seemed to have some hope that help would come for him. He’d been about to dig the tip of the bloody filet knife deeper into the corner of Sam’s eye only to freeze at not only the sound of the icy cold steel voice of one pissed-off Dean Winchester but also the sound of the .45 Colt that was cocked once it was pressed into the back of his neck.

“Step back, drop the blade, and if you so much as think of nicking my brother in the process, I will do so much worse to you than you have to him already.” Dean’s growl was pure pissed-off big brother with another even darker side of him barely held in check just below the surface.

Dean had combed thru most of the old warehouse as quickly as he could while still trying to make sure he wasn’t missing anything or anyone that could be a threat to Sam later on once he located his brother. He had gotten Donna’s text that she’d located her niece and Clegg’s pal, but had simply texted back a terse reply to tell her to remain where she was for the moment since the hunter knew Donna’s focus would be on her scared niece, and that’s where she needed to be. He also didn’t want the often still naïve sheriff to see what he feared he might find once he located Sam and his kidnapper.

There was a muffled sound from down another dark and dank corridor that had him breaking into a run, but it was the next sound that had Dean slowing down to allow the hunter in him to take control over the often rash older brother.

Hearing his brother scream, muffled but still in agony, went right through him, and Dean could feel another side of him, the side that he’d buried since hell, brush the surface. Pissed off, protective older brother was there, but as soon as he opened the heavy unlocked steel door to step into the small room to see and smell what he did, Dean no longer was certain which side of him would win control.

A quick look showed Dean the laptop was still running as it broadcasted the scene of Sam being tortured to the live feed. The hunter had plans to deal with that, but first, as he stepped closer, he knew he had other matters to deal with first, namely, getting the bragging bastard away from his brother.

Dean’s lips had just quirked up in a wry smile at hearing Clegg tell Sam that he was the last thing the man was worried about or that Sam should expect help from. The hunter wasn’t sure what had caused his barely conscious and clearly in shock brother to look up, but Dean knew the second that Sam saw him. Their eyes locked, and the silent communication that came as naturally for them as talking formed an invisible lifeline between them that Sam clung to through his pain. Dean gave Sam a small reassuring nod to say that he had it handled and that he was safe, and that was enough for Sam.

Pressing the barrel of his Colt against Clegg’s neck as he cocked it got the man’s attention, but still Dean’s eyes didn’t leave where the man still had the tip of his knife pressing into the corner of Sam’s eye as he gave his warning about stepping back.

Dean had been in this position before. He could almost tell the man was thinking of using Sam as a bartering chip or hurting him. “Step back, Clegg,” he instructed again and applied more pressure to the barrel of his Colt as he did so as to emphasize his point. “You were real big on bragging how I was the last person you were worried about. Well, turn around and face me now, big man.”

“You’ll just kill me either way, so maybe I should pluck your brother’s eye out or jab this knife up through his jaw into his brain just for good measure.” Clegg shot a smirk down at a glassy-eyed, in-shock Sam, but frowned when he felt a razor sharp blade touch his own throat in addition to the Colt that hadn’t wavered.

“Oh, I’m killing you, asshole. The only question you have to decide on -- and I’m borrowing this next phrase from the good sheriff from Minnesota -- is will you die quick or slow?” Dean met the federal agent’s faltering bravado with the one smirk he used that never failed to piss off demons, monsters, and angels alike (thus earning him more than a few beat-downs along the way). “Step away from my brother right now, and I’ll kill you quickly. If you do what you’re thinking and you so much as nick him again with that blade, then I’ll show you what 40 goddamn years in hell learning from a master of torture has taught me! You’ll know pain a lot worse than what you just made Sam suffer.” He smirked a bit more for effect, knowing if he baited the man that he could get him away from Sam. “Your choice.”

“Bastard!” Clegg hated to be showed up by anyone, especially a smart-ass hunter. He’d worked too long, too hard for the last 12 years to make this operation a success. He’d killed more than one fellow agent who had gotten too close to revealing his part in it to let two arrogant hunters ruin it or take him down now.

Deciding he’d finish with Sam once his brother had been dealt with, Clegg decided to use Dean’s closeness as a way to get the upper hand. He went to thrust the arm not holding the knife back with the intention to use an elbow to the gut to distract Dean and then slash with the filet knife that he’d just jerked away from Sam’s eye so he could whirl and slash only to grunt when his elbow hit air as the hunter had shifted his body away agilely as if expecting the attack.

“Dude, I was trained to fight by an ex-Marine. I learned how to fight and how to fight dirty, and I’ve been mixing it up with super-strength monsters pretty much my whole life. Give it up, man. More importantly, you touched the one person who you never should have, and that pisses me off because no one, human or monster, demon or angel, touches what belongs to me and lives to brag about it.” Dean growled, shifting his upper body more to the side to easily avoid the furious man’s lunge.

Years of training with John Winchester, as well as the years of hunting on his own or with Sam and surviving a year in Purgatory, had given Dean an agility and skill set that very few others possessed. He could almost tell what Clegg was going to do and had already shifted away to avoid the initial elbow strike that had been meant to distract him for the knife slash.

Stepping back, Dean slipped his gun back into its holster under his jacket but kept the demon-killing blade that he’d picked up from where he’d noticed Clegg had tossed Sam’s jacket, holster, and gun and the knife. “You made one mistake when you grabbed Sam. You made a huge mistake by what you’ve done to him. Your last mistake was not making sure I was dead before making mistakes 1 and 2.” He met the furious eyes of the other man while letting his lips curl up into a deadly smile that very few people had ever seen and lived to talk about. He raised his other hand to motion with his fingers as if in invitation. “Bring it, jackass.”

Allowing Clegg to lunge invited the risk of danger, but, in Dean’s mind, the farther away from where Sam was still trapped he could get the man, the better it was.

It was clear the fed had some skill, but he was also angry and overconfident, both things making him sloppy when he lunged with the intent to use the hunter’s concern for his brother to get a surprise punch in to his gut and then use the filet knife in his fist to slit his throat.

Despite the anger he felt, as well as the burning need to get to Sam, Dean was able to keep his cool in the fight. He played the song and dance that Clegg seemed to expect him to by allowing the man to get in close but never close enough to actually land a punch or use the blade on him.

The piece of Dean that both hell and purgatory created wanted to draw this out. That side wanted to do to Clegg what he’d done to Sam only with a lot more skill, but it was a weak sound from the table that reminded Dean that he couldn’t allow that side control. His badly injured and in-shock younger brother needed him more than he needed to make Clegg bleed or beg like he’d so badly wanted to hear Sam beg.

Stopping in mid-move, he caught the wrist that held the knife while using his fist and the bottom of the demon blade to slam into Clegg’s face. Dean felt the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage as the man’s nose broke and gave the wrist a hard twist until he heard the blade drop and Clegg scream as his wrist broke in the hunter’s grasp.

“W-wait! Stop!” he gasped as he dropped to the cement floor, blood dripping from his broken nose and trying to cradle his broken wrist. He looked up at the oddly calm hunter, but could easily see the silent rage in deep glittering green eyes. “Don’t…don’t kill me, and I’ll give you half the money for…ugh!” He was cut off by another blow that almost laid him out flat on the floor.

“I don’t want your bloody money, Clegg. I don’t want it, but I will make sure it goes to the families of your other victims who will never know where their sons and daughters, husbands or wives have disappeared to, because you sure as hell also won’t be needing it,” Dean said, looking down at the man with a cold look before glancing at the knife in his hand, making his choice in that instant. “Game’s over. You lose.”

The Colt had reappeared in Dean’s hand in the second it took Clegg to blink, and then the only sound in the room was the report of the weapon going off as a single round struck the man in the head. It was a quicker end than Dean would have liked, but he knew there were more important things he needed to tend to. “Sammy!”

Whirling, Dean bolted back across the room but took a second to stare into the camera that had still been recording this whole time and seeing the scrolling comments that had now turned to shouts and curses that the bidders’ food source was clearly about to come to an end.

Taking a step closer to the camera, the hunter knelt down to be sure he got his point across. “Hey creature-features,” he smirked a bit more before his face and voice went hard. “In case you haven’t figured it out, your meal supply is closed. But before I go, I just want to give all of you out there bidding and having a good ol’ time while that jackass tortured and bled my brother, as well as all of his other victims, a heads up…”

A sound from behind him had Dean standing so he could move back, his hand going flat on Sam’s chest in a way that he knew would be familiar to his brother, but he kept his eyes on the camera so those still watching could see him. “All of your screen names, ISP providers, credit cards, and whatever else you used to log in have been saved to his server. You might have thought all of this time that you were safe in your little lives because Sam and I and other hunters out there didn’t even know about you. Well, guess what? I know about you now, and so will every other hunter out there, so I suggest you start looking over your shoulder. Bye.”

The Colt fired again, striking the camera and destroying the live feed. Dean’s hand slapped the cover of the laptop closed while he was shoving the weapon back under his jacket, and then he turned his full attention to his barely conscious brother.

“Sammy! Hey! You still with me, little brother?” Dean’s eyes gave a quick look at the number of wounds Sam had and, for a second, wished he had made Clegg suffer more, but then he was too busy unhooking the bit gag first with a low growl.

Dean knew of anything Sam hated or feared, one of the worst was gags. Those were the one thing that Dean still held back from using when they played a bit rougher than usual, because he knew of Sam’s past and understood what his brother could or couldn’t tolerate. The bit gag was one that Sam could only tolerate for a short time, and the one they used wasn’t this thick and the straps not as wide, so it infuriated him to feel the drying tears on Sam’s pale, bruised face, as well as the bloody welts where the strap bit into his skin.

Carefully working the bit out of his brother’s mouth, Dean hurled it over his shoulder with a low curse before starting to use his fingers to work the joints of Sam’s jaw to ease the ache as it closed, but still heard a low whimper as well as something that had him leaning closer as he heard it repeated with what strength Sam still had left. “Dean…”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m here. I’ve got you now and I’m going to take care of you.” Dean had to work to keep his voice or hands from shaking as he heard Sam’s whispered low mumbles that only years of growing up with his at various times injured, sick, or drunk brother allowed him to translate. “Hang on while I get you loose and find something to stop this bleeding.”

Brushing his fingers back through Sam’s sweat-soaked hair, Dean followed the light touch with an equally light brush of his lips over Sam’s forehead and immediately felt the low-grade fever. “Hang on, Sammy.”

This time Dean’s fingers did shake as they set to work on freeing the heavy straps holding his brother’s wrists, ankles and chest to the table. He saw the small containers of blood set to the side and knew that Clegg had bled Sam for his blood to sell to vampires, but what concerned him, aside from that blood, were the numerous bleeding cuts on Sam’s arms and chest as well as the actual raw sections where the man had skinned his brother.

“ _Sonuvabitch_!” he fought his temper, as well as his own guilt for not getting to Sam sooner, as he finally got the first strap off of his brother’s wrists only to see raw, bloody skin underneath from where Sam had fought the restraints. “Hey! Easy there. Stay still until I get the others off of…Sammy? What is it?” Dean had to be quick to grab the weakly flailing hand that moved as soon as it was free.

At first he’d thought it was Sam’s reaction to still being held down or needing some kind of connection to reassure himself that he was safe, but instead of letting Dean catch and hold onto his hand, Sam struggled to reach out as if looking to touch his brother’s face instead.

Realizing what Sam was doing, Dean instantly understood what might be happening, and he moved back up so he could place Sam’s cold, weak fingers on his face while watching as Sam’s eyes struggled to open enough to see him. “It’s me, Sam. It’s Dean,” he reassured his badly injured sibling.

Dean waited until Sam blinked enough that he thought he could actually see him, feeling his shaking fingertips shifting down over Dean’s jaw and slowly the hunter smiled, allowing Sam to see his smile but also to see his teeth as if understanding what Clegg probably told Sam. “I’m me, baby boy,” he reassured Sam in a softer voice while leaning closer and resting his forehead against Sam’s as he repeated the words again. “I’m me, Sammy.”

Sam fought to bring his brother into focus, since, by that time, he knew he’d lost a lot of blood, and the shock and pain were pushing him to accept the bliss of unconsciousness. But before he could allow himself to sink under, he had to reassure himself of one thing. He knew Dean was there with him, so he knew he was safe, but one thing Clegg kept saying was huge in the younger Winchester’s mind, so before he drifted under, he needed to know for sure. Sam felt Dean’s hand catch his and place it on his face, but it wasn’t until his brother smiled that Sam knew it was all good.

There was no strength to speak, not that Sam thought he could since his tongue and mouth both felt as dry as a desert, but he thought he still made a sound when he heard Dean use the one nickname that only Dean could use for him and felt his brother’s forehead touch his as he kept whispering the reassurance that it was him. Only then did Sam start to allow himself to relax and begin to drift under into unconsciousness.

Not quite able to let go, however, Sam struggled to open his eyes once again to watch as Dean worked to free him. He felt strong fingers shake as they held his free hand and tried to close his own hand but knew he was too weak when the muscles wouldn’t cooperate. “… … De…”

The use of the shortened form of his name told Dean that he had to work quickly to get Sam free and out of this damn place. Looking up, he watched as Sam tried to fight to stay conscious, feeling the pulse in the wrist of the hand he held jump before starting to weaken. “Hey, I’ve got this, Sammy. I’ve got you. I need you to rest for me now. Just let go. I’ll take care of you,” he said, reaching up with his free hand to lightly touch Sam’s cheek, offering a soothing smile as Sam let his face turn into his touch but still fought his fluttering lashes. “Sam, I swear that I’ll be with you when you wake up, and even if it’s at a hospital, I’ll get you out of there as soon as it’s safe. But right now, little brother, close your eyes and sleep. Your big brother’s got you,” he promised in a voice thick with more emotion than Dean normally would have allowed to show, but he understood how close he’d come this time to losing his brother.

Sam’s dried and split lips moved without words, but knew Dean understood when he felt his hand squeezed and heard his brother’s soft “I love you too” replied before darkness finally overtook him and Sam slipped under with a silent prayer to whoever might still be listening that he hadn’t lost too much blood and would wake up.

Waiting until he felt Sam’s body go limp, his fingers relaxing in his grip, Dean slowly blew out a shaky breath that did nothing to relieve his own worries about the amount of blood Sam had lost as well as the severity of his other injuries.

He fought the other straps until he finally had Sam free and quickly used his brother’s already ruined shirt to rip more long pieces off to use as makeshift bandages to try to slow the bleeding on both arms where Clegg had bled Sam. Dean knew the cuts needed more help than he could give there, and he cringed as he took a better look at the pieces of raw skin but gave a silent ‘thank you’ that Clegg really hadn’t known what he was doing there. Dean knew the correct way to skin a human and was grateful Sam hadn’t suffered that agony.

Feeling his phone buzzing, a quick glance told the hunter that it was Donna. He debated his few choices before making the one he hated to make. “Hey,” he said after he answered and immediately had Donna demanding to know what was happening. “I’ve got him and Clegg is dead,” he glanced to where the dead man now lay and hoped briefly, that whatever level of hell he landed in, that he’d suffer even a little of what his victims had. “Call an ambulance, Donna. Wendy needs one, I’m sure, and Sammy’s…he’s hurt too bad for me to patch him up at the hotel or the backseat. Make the call and let’s get the hell out of this place.”

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Lost, Found, Protect and Heal**

**Chapter Three**

** Three weeks later, Men of Letters Bunker: **

“How’s Sam?” the voice of Sheriff Jody Mills came over the phone that Dean grabbed to answer while stirring the pot he had on the stove. “And don’t feed me the ‘he’s fine’ line that you’ve been giving Donna every time she calls, because, since I dragged out of her what the hell happened and how she said Sam looked there and then you pulled that damn AMA stunt again, I know he’s not fine.”

Deciding against sighing into the phone and risking pissing the sheriff of Sioux Falls more than it sounded like she was, Dean leaned against the stove to consider his answer for a brief moment. “Sam’s…coping. Just let it go at that,” he finally replied and swore he could hear teeth grinding on the other end of the phone. “This has brought back a lot of stuff I don’t think either of us were expecting, especially that last deal with that psycho British Barbie and the…some other worse crap. So while he’s healing and getting his strength back, he’s having nightmares. I don’t think he’s gotten a good full night’s sleep since it happened.

In truth, Dean knew neither of them had been expecting the amount of nightmares this mess had brought back to his brother. He was just glad the worst had hit once he’d gotten Sam back to the bunker and not while he’d still been in the hospital. The doctors may have understood some nightmares given the horrendous nature of his injuries, but when Sam would start screaming and begging for Lucifer to leave him alone, that might have ended up with some very awkward questions in the psych ward.

The hunter knew he could never repay Donna enough for her ability to not only be a worried aunt to a traumatized girl, but also a tough-as-nails sheriff who had vouched for Dean’s fake fed credentials when the staff had at first questioned the story of a serial killer kidnapping victims for body parts. Of course, that meant Dean had to remember to play fed and not big brother at times when he really wanted to throat punch a few people who’d been caring for Sam. Fortunately, the combination of the trail of missing persons cases and the evidence at the warehouse quickly corroborated the psychotic serial killer story, so it hadn’t been a stretch to explain Wendy’s shock and injuries as well as Sam’s far more serious ones

Sam had lost quite a few pints of blood from both being bled and the deeper cuts. He also had a concussion along with many cuts that required stitches. The raw sections where his skin had been peeled away had concerned both the staff and Dean, but a specialist felt that while the healing would take time and would be painful, Sam wouldn’t require skin grafts like he would have had the wounds been any deeper or the sadist more skilled.

Sam was unconscious for over 27 hours, and by the time he began to come back around, Dean knew he had to get his brother out of there sooner rather than later. It was easy for him to recognize the signs in his brother’s uneasy sleep that this event had dredged up some of Sam’s worst memories of the past, and Dean knew Sam was both chatty while under pain meds and potentially lethal if he felt threatened while coming out of one of his far-too-graphic nightmares of hell.

“Uh-huh. The last thing I need is for Donna to have to use her badge to explain it if you punch someone before I do, little brother,” Dean had said the one time when Sam woke up in a rush, confused and in shock, unsure of where he was. He only knew that he was in pain, in a bed not his own, and Dean’s hand wasn’t on him in some way like it almost always was if he was hurt. Oh, and then there was the lingering sense of terror and dread, even though he had no clear memory of what had happened. “You’re gonna be fine, and I am getting you signed out ASAP. Told them you needed to go into witness protection. But until I do, just stay calm. I’m not leaving again.”

Dean knew it would be a while time before Sam stopped looking at him like he might disappear again, since the first time the younger man had woken up had been sooner than anyone, especially Dean, had thought he would, he had been alone, because his brother had gone back to the warehouse to make sure he destroyed anything that hinted at anything supernatural being involved. As far as the cops were concerned, this needed to be just another psycho killer who had finally been stopped.

Since then, he couldn’t be that far away from Sam without his brother getting upset, even though he tried to hide it, and Dean knew that the coming days weren’t going to be easy for either of them once they got back to the bunker and he’d been correct.

Sam was quiet -- too quiet -- and Dean suspected that Jody got it, since she’d been around them both enough now to understand if Sam was shutting down to the point where he wouldn’t talk or express his feelings, that it wasn’t good.

“Do you want to come up here for a visit?” Jody asked after listening to Dean’s side of things and how his brother had been coping or, in some cases, not coping. “Some home-cooked food and some mothering? Or would mothering from me right now make it worse for him?”

“Mothering from you is never a bad thing,” Dean assured the woman who had taken over the role in their lives, and still did, even with the return of their own mother -- the mother that now seemed lost to them again. “If it was just you or you and Alex, then I might say okay. But I don’t think he’s up for dealing with a whole houseful of teenage girls right now. So thanks, but I think we’ll pass until he’s better,” he added, head jerking when he heard a sound from elsewhere in the bunker. “Gotta go, Jody.”

Jody wanted to argue, but she’d known the Winchesters long enough to know when to push and when not to. She also knew when to make a point. “Dean,” she said and waited to be sure she still had his attention, going on when she heard a soft grunt. “I know you want to protect him. I know you feel guilty about not seeing the threat before Sam was grabbed, but you also know you can’t protect him or help him heal if you put him in a bubble. You both also know you have people to turn to when you need it, so call me if you need help, huh?”

“I will. And, Jody…tell Donna thanks and that I wish it had turned out differently with Doug,” Dean replied before hanging up, turning the pan on low and going in search of the noises he was now hearing since he knew them and knew food wouldn’t be high on Sam’s list of things right then.

Stepping into the hallway, he listened again before grabbing a bottle of blue Gatorade and heading for the shower room only to pause when he saw Sam sitting slumped against the wall outside it with his head resting on his knees.

In the weeks since Clegg, Sam had been unusually quiet, and his sleep was nearly nonexistent since every time he closed his eyes, he either heard the man bragging about cutting him up and selling the pieces or he felt the man peeling off parts of skin. Even worse for Sam was when his recent injuries brought back the memories of other times that were even worse. Those were the ones that often had his stomach revolting on him…like this last nightmare had.

Sitting on the floor outside the shower room, Sam just hadn’t had the strength to make it back to his room or Dean’s right then, so he’d sat down with his head on his knees, eyes closed, and just tried to tell himself that his reactions were normal even if they confused him.

Sensing more than hearing Dean’s approach, Sam didn’t move or look up, because he knew he didn’t have to. He knew his brother would merely sit beside him and would wait. Dean had been really patient in the waiting this time, and, while Sam would rather not talk, would rather just allow his brother to offer comfort in Dean’s own way, he also knew eventually he had to face things or risk shoving another wedge between them if Dean’s own guilt eventually got the better of him.

Feeling the comforting arm slowly ease behind him, Sam relaxed a little and let himself lean over so his head could rest on the shoulder that he never doubted would be there for him. “I…I dreamed of the alley, that night in that goddamn alley,” he began after another moment of silence, swallowing hard and feeling something cold touch his hand and took the bottle that Sam knew would be his favorite flavor of Gatorade.

Dean rested his head back against the wall as he waited for Sam to ease closer to him to use his shoulder for a pillow before tightening the arm he’d slipped around his brother. He didn’t have to ask what alley since, even though they’d both had a lot of bad crap happen in the years since, Dean knew which alley Sam meant and why, every time after one of those nightmares, his brother had to see his teeth.

“Sammy, we’ve been through this. The whole vampire mess wasn’t your fault. You weren’t you and were going on what Samuel told you to do.” He hated the lingering inner guilt and turmoil that still messed with his brother’s head from time to time when something came along to remind him of the time he’d been soulless and the things he had done and things he had allowed to happen. “I don’t blame you for that night.”

Sam lifted his head to stare into Dean’s eyes, unaware of the tears that had fallen until he felt his brother’s thumb lightly brush them off his cheek. “I blame me, Dean,” he returned simply, fingers wrapping into the flannel that Dean wore as if needing that connection. “I still see it happen. I still know that I stood there and let that bastard touch you, and I did nothing to stop it! I still…and all Clegg did was throw it up that you were either dead or wishing you were because his vampire buddy might have turned you, and…and all I could think of while he was skinning me was that I’d failed you…again.

“You were right. My head wasn’t in the game thinking how we’ve lost Mom, and now lost Jack who was our only shot at maybe finding Mom, and I didn’t see Clegg for what he was. I fucked up one of the first things you ever taught me, and if you’d been turned again, it would have been my fault again because…because I didn’t…and then I couldn’t stop him from hurting me and…” Sam wasn’t even aware of how fast he was talking or that he’d turned so he now had both hands wrapped in Dean’s flannel shirt while staring with wide, wet eyes into calm green ones. “I’ve failed you. I’ve failed Jack. I’ve failed Mom. I’ve failed…”

“No one.” Dean had finally heard enough, and the moment he heard Sam’s voice break, he knew it was time to interrupt. “You’ve failed no one, little brother. No matter what people have told you, what you’ve heard me say to you a few times, you’ve never failed me. You never failed Mom, and if anyone failed Jack, it was me by putting the same crap on him that I have done to you before.”

Sam blinked furiously to clear his watery vision, frowning a little, but before he could argue, he went still at the feel of Dean’s fingers closing over his wrists with enough strength to hold but not hurt his still-sore wrists as he eased his hands away from where he’d been pulling on the flannel in his frustration to make his brother understand him.

Now, as he looked down to see Dean gripping his wrists, Sam’s eyes suddenly shot back up to Dean’s and another rush of emotion, one that he’d been burying lately with all the other crap going on, hit him square in the chest and Sam heard himself gasp.

Years of growing up with Sam, of raising him, of teaching him, allowed Dean to know every sound his brother made or what every facial tell on Sam’s often too expressive face meant. The second he’d closed his fingers around Sam’s wrists in an effort to try to free his shirt from the tight grip, he saw Sam’s reaction and he recognized the look on his brother’s face.

Ever since they’d been back at the bunker, Dean’s biggest concern had been hovering over Sam and making sure he healed. Due to the cuts on his arms, chest, stomach and side, as well as the patches of missing skin that were still painful if touched by more than Sam’s softest t-shirt, Dean had put anything other than sleeping in the same bed off the board, especially since the nightmares hit and Sam had been almost hesitant to initiate something as simple as a kiss. That was when Dean knew, the moment his brother’s emotions opened up again, that his no chick-flick rule would be gone for a long time.

Now, as he watched Sam’s gaze move from where his wrists were being held back to up Dean’s eyes and then flicker down to Dean’s mouth, it was clear that something had stretched Sam’s nerves to where he was longing for something more, something that Dean had to be sure his brother was ready for before he’d even agree to anything more than allowing Sam to use his chest as a punching bag.

“Tell me what you need, Sammy,” Dean was careful to keep his tone even, level even as he was shifting to his knees, but kept his grip on Sam’s wrists since that appeared to be what his brother was focusing on right then.

“You,” Sam replied simply enough, locking his gaze on Dean’s as his brother stood easily with a gracefulness that Sam still silently envied. He was only half aware that, as Dean stood, he’d brought Sam to his feet with him.

“You’ve got me, little brother,” Dean felt his lips curve into a slow smile that was one notch below the full-on sexy-as-sin one that he’d perfected so many years ago, while also trying not to notice how Sam was chewing on his bottom lip. “Now tell me what you want, Sam.”

Tilting his head to the side much like he used to as a child when something intrigued him, Sam had to think about that given that he was fairly certain he’d just answered the question. But then he remembered something Dean had told him years earlier about how needs and wants were often different and required different answers.

“You,” Sam said, not missing the instant flash of heat that shot at him from Dean’s eyes or the way his fingers tightened briefly before relaxing again, as if not wanting to hurt him, and he understood what his brother was doing. “I need you, Dean. I want you.” His voice was sure. He chewed on his bottom lip, and this time heard the low growl from Dean. He knew that, at any other time, his brother would have already been kissing him, but now was giving him the time to decide what he wanted to do or needed Dean to do. “This…this has brought back a lot of the other stuff when it shouldn’t have, and I know that’s why you haven’t been pushing me to talk or…kissed me since the other night. But…I don’t know what I need from you or what I want you to do, or even what I can do right now, but…”

Pleased that Sam was willing to be this open after weeks of nearly shutting down and shutting him out, Dean smiled a little more. “I will never push you to talk or for more than you’re ready to give, Sam,” he said softly but firmly.

Right then, Dean suspected he knew what Sam needed, even if his brother didn’t, and he would do his best to give it to him no matter if it put him in an icy shower for the rest of the night. “Trust me to take care of you tonight?” he asked and had to be quick to hide his smirk at the bitch face that earned him.

“I’ve trusted you to take care of me since I was six months old, Dean.” Sam thought the question was stupid, but understood a part of Dean still had concerns given things in their past or the troubles they’ve had to face. He caught Dean’s eyes with his own and held his gaze. “I will _always_ trust you to take care of me.” He paused to shift one hand and immediately felt it freed, but all Sam did was lift it up to lay against Dean’s face, loving the feel of his five o’clock shadow there as he did so. “I trust you to take care of me, to find me when I’m in trouble, to protect me, to help me heal. I trust you to also love me like I love you.”

The raw, open, and pure emotion spoken in those words and reflected on Sam’s face nearly took his brother to his knees right there in the hallway. Dean held Sam’s eyes while turning his face just enough to the side so he could press his lips against the palm that rested on his face. “Always and forever, baby boy,” he said in the honey-coated sex-and-sin voice that was meant only for the younger man in front of him, lips curving into the slow, sinful smile that he also only gave to Sam. “Let me show you?” he asked while already seeing the way Sam’s eyes were starting to change to deeper golds and greens.

The feel of Dean’s lips kissing his palm had Sam’s focus slipping a little, as did the tone of voice used with Dean’s unspoken promise. Managing a nod, the younger man wasn’t surprised when he was suddenly tugged into his brother’s arms, but instead of the deep and steaming kiss he expected, Sam had to work hard to not break when he felt Dean’s lips press against the center of his forehead, the one spot that Sam understood meant his brother was still showing him how he felt, but also not pushing too far or too fast.

“Dean…” Sam wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, since he knew recently he’d given his brother all the reasons in the world to slow things down between them. He understood this recent attack and Clegg’s words and threats that Sam hadn’t told Dean about had brought back some of his darker memories, and that his nightmares as of late had probably also caused his brother to watch what he did or said. That night, though, Sam wasn’t sure he wouldn’t break fully and those memories come pouring out if Dean went with the slow and gentle plan. Then it hit him like an anvil what was happening, and only Dean’s arms suddenly wrapping around him kept Sam on his feet. “You…”

“Trust me to make love to you like you need right now, baby boy,” Dean murmured against Sam’s ear while silently hoping he could give them both what they needed that night. “No pain, no rush, no games; just you and me alone in my room. Talk if you need to because, Sammy...I’ve heard your nightmares. I’ve held you during and after them. Get it all out if you need to. I’ll keep you distracted, but if you need to stop, then we stop. Got it?”

Managing a nod, Sam swallowed the lump in his throat that he swore he hadn’t felt since the first time they’d crossed the line from brothers to lovers years earlier. “Kiss me?” he asked and hoped he didn’t sound as nervous or shy as he had been that first time or that his cheeks weren’t as red as he feared they might be by the way Dean’s lips curved up a bit more.

“Always.” Dean knew he could tease Sam for a lifetime about actually blushing when he asked for that kiss considering some of the things that they’d done since crossing those boundaries. But while there were many things he chose to tease his brother over in their lives, Dean knew this would never be one of them. “C’mere, Sammy,” he said in that tone of voice that never failed to turn Sam on, while sliding his one hand up and wrapping his fingers around the back of Sam’s neck to bring his head down so their lips could meet.

Having already decided that fast and hurried was off the table that night, Dean kept this kiss, the first time in weeks that he’d actually kissed Sam, light and slow. He kept his eyes open and on Sam as he kissed his brother this first time, reading every nuance in his brother’s face to gauge how best to proceed, while also working them closer to his bedroom.

Sam’s eyes had gone closed after the first few moments of feeling Dean’s lips touch his in the slow, teasing, gentle way that he almost had known would be his brother’s choice of kiss at that moment. Losing himself in the moment, he surrendered to the way Dean managed to deepen the kiss without letting it heat too much too soon.

By the time that Sam started to feel restless and wanting more, he realized with a startled gasp that he was being lowered back to the soft memory foam mattress on Dean’s bed. “Huh?” he blinked at the same time as he heard a low deep chuckle close to his ear, looking over to see that Dean had stretched out beside him and also noticing that they both had on way too many clothes for this to work. “You do know that this works better if at least one of us is naked, right?” he pointed out with a barely hidden grin, yelping in surprise when quick fingers suddenly pinched his side. “Hey!”

“Smartass,” Dean smirked, but he pushed up onto an elbow to easily lever himself up and then supported himself on his arms over Sam. “You said you trusted me to give you what you needed tonight, and I will.” He paused to place light kisses along Sam’s jaw before flicking his eyes up to see that he had his brother’s full attention. “I will give you everything you need tonight and every night after this, but you need to settle down or we’re not doing anything. Unclench your fingers, Sammy,” he said, but kept his gaze on Sam until it was clear that the younger man realized what he’d been doing.

At first Sam wasn’t sure what his brother was talking about, but the longer Dean’s eyes held his, Sam realized he had tensed the moment Dean put himself above him, and his fingers were nearly white-knuckled in the comforter. Blowing out a breath, Sam silently berated himself for still allowing the damn memories that were suddenly all too vivid again to put him back in this head space. “I’m…” he started to apologize only to be halted by a kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” Dean said after breaking the kiss and pushing himself up so he could sit on the edge of the bed but was also quick to put his fingertips against Sam’s chest, pushing him back as he went to move. “Before we do anything, answer me one question. Yes or no answers work.” He glanced over to see that, while Sam was looking at him, his brother’s lashes were covering his eyes. “Clegg do anything more than cut on you?”

Expecting that would be his brother’s question, Sam sighed and managed this time to sit up enough so they’d be more on eye level. “No,” he replied, but then blew out a hard breath of self-disgust. “He didn’t touch me. All he did, other than make some creepy comments, was read some of those comments on the screen that others were telling him what they’d pay him to do to me. Between that, the damn straps, and that table and feeling so goddamn helpless again, it’s just brought back too much other crap from the Benders, to the cage, to Toni, to Amelia, to things from back when I was a kid, and…I need to feel hands on me that I know won’t hurt me.”

Suspecting that had been part of the issue, Dean still wished he’d killed Clegg a lot more slowly, and he still planned on finding each and every one of those sons of bitches that had been bidding on body parts; but right then, he knew what he had to do.

“You do know that if I could do anything to take back even a few of those moments from your life that I would, right?” he asked as he stood after removing his boots and socks, reaching down to lift Sam’s head where it had lowered like it did whenever they were close to broaching topics that Dean normally steered well clear of. “Hell, if I could manage to keep you from ever being hurt in any way, I would, but I can’t. I hate that Jody’s right, and I hate that I can’t put you in a damn bubble or make some type of deal where all this crazy shit is wiped out of your life so you could have normal, but…”

Sam reached up, softly laying his fingers over Dean’s lips, cutting him off. “I wanted normal at 12. I wanted normal as a kid so I could finish one school year in one place and not have to lie to everyone we met about why we lived in a motel or why Dad was never there. I wanted normal when we were kids so I didn’t have to see the fear in your eyes every day about what you’d do or say if social services came knocking or the worry about feeding me when you didn’t eat.” Sam reached out to grab Dean’s wrist when he saw his brother’s jaw tense since this was something that they very rarely talked about, especially the things that Dean hadn’t known that Sam knew about. “Dean, wait. All I’m saying right now is, I haven’t wanted normal since I was 16 and realized that, to have normal, I couldn’t have you as we are right now.

“I know you wanted to protect me all those times; hell, any of the times when I was hurt in any way. I know you punished yourself with guilt for not being there for me, with me. And, yeah, a few of those times, _I_ wish to God or Chuck that I could erase the memories, if not the whole deal, but we can’t. You can’t. Just like you can’t put me in a bubble or keep me in the bunker for the rest of our lives.”

Sam knew he was starting to lose the battle with his nerves and would soon start to babble, so, as he felt Dean turn his hand so their palms touched, he decided to rush on. “We both have bad stuff that happened to us that surfaces from time to time. I wish you’d be as open with me as you let me be when I need to. But tonight…right this minute…I just want you to do what you did for me after the cage and let me know I’m not alone. Let me feel your hands on me so, when I sleep with you tonight, it’s your touch I feel and no one else’s.”

Remaining quiet through that whole speech had been one of the hardest things Dean Winchester had done in his recent life. He hadn’t cared to learn that maybe he hadn’t been as successful in shielding his little brother from everything back when Sam had been younger as he thought he had. He also decided that, one day when they were snowed in and had enough booze on hand, maybe it was time to broach a few of those subjects marked taboo by both of them. Right then, though, the hunter had other plans and a little brother that needed him to be there for him like he’d always tried to be.

“Mine,” he murmured, voice husky, deep with raw emotion as he shrugged off his flannel and gave his t-shirt a pull to take it off over his head before reaching for the bottom of Sam’s shirt. “Always mine, baby boy, and you will never be alone.”

Careful when he pulled the old worn sweatshirt up and off so it wouldn’t drag on any of the stitches or the still raw and sore skin, Dean still felt his breath catch like it did every time he caught sight of toned skin over tight muscles and knew that would never change.

Dropping the sweatshirt beside the bed, Dean knelt on the side of his bed to catch Sam’s face between his palms and brought their lips together again. This kiss, while still not hard or rushed, had more heat in it than earlier. Waiting until he felt Sam lean into the kiss more to deepen it, Dean laid Sam back on the pillows and just let the kisses build in heat and need naturally.

Licking over Sam’s lips, he felt his brother start in surprise, but Dean made no other move except to allow his brother the time to adjust, to decide how far or fast he wanted to take it. After another few kisses, he felt Sam’s lips part on a sigh, and slowly, almost shyly, Dean felt Sam’s tongue slip out to meet his.

Keeping most of his weight on his arms while holding himself above Sam as they kissed, as their tongues began to play, to tease, Dean had to remind himself not to go too far yet. The urge to plunge his tongue into Sam’s mouth to explore, to reclaim was there, but so was the need to go slow, to erase the memories plaguing Sam from his nightmares.

By the time Dean broke the kiss, both Winchesters were gasping for breath, but it was the deeper golds and blues that he could see in Sam’s wide eyes that told Dean that, so far, Sam was focused on him, on what they were doing, and he could only hope as he continued that it stayed the same.

Biting his lip, Sam forced his eyes open to watch as Dean slowly began kissing his way down his throat, making sure to nuzzle and suck on the spots of Sam’s neck that he knew his brother enjoyed. Sam also enjoyed the marks Dean would leave on his neck or throat when he kissed him there.

Watching the way Dean’s body moved always fascinated Sam. He loved seeing the trim and toned muscles move as Dean supported himself on his arms while slowly sliding lower so he could begin to lightly brush soft kisses over each cut on Sam’s arms or chest. Tensing automatically when his brother got too close to one of the raw patches on his arm, Sam saw Dean shake his head as if reassuring him that he knew not to touch those wounds and he let himself relax again.

Dean was careful when pressing gentle kisses over the worst of the cuts. He knew they were still painful and the most prone to bringing back the memories. So as he began to gently kiss down one on Sam’s side, the hunter wasn’t surprised to feel Sam’s fingers automatically tense in the comforter again, but Dean didn’t let on and just continued to place soft kisses over the wounds before also giving attention to the older scars Sam still had from other injuries.

After making sure to kiss and touch each new cut or bruise from Clegg’s attack while avoiding any that would cause Sam pain, Dean slid lower until he was laying in the V made of Sam’s spread legs to begin the same attention to Sam’s stomach.

It hadn’t escaped Dean’s notice that Sam’s pupils were already darker, only a thin ring of color around the edges, or that his sleep pants were tented and damp from where his cock was showing a lot of interest in his actions so far.

“I’m guessing that you’re enjoying this so far, little brother?” Dean asked with a teasing grin, laughing at the gesture and look he was given. “Bossy,” he teased while slipping his fingers under the waistband of Sam’s sleep pants and feeling the first fissure of tension run though his brother’s body. “Do you want these off now or after I suck you off?”

Sam’s hips lifted enough in reply to indicate that he wanted the constricting clothing off now, watching as skilled fingers easily skimmed both the sleep pants and boxer briefs off. For a brief second, Sam wasn’t sure if he shivered from the sudden cool air hitting his now naked body or the heat from deep and glittering green eyes as Dean looked at him.

From the moment he’d fully grown into his arms and legs, Sam had to force himself to get used to the looks he’d get from the girls in school or when he went away to Stanford. He’d also had to get used to deflecting the occasional comments or not so welcome touches from both males and females. But the one look that the younger Winchester knew would always be welcome and would never fail to send shivers through his body was when Dean would look at him like he was right then.

It was in those silent moments, when Dean would just look at him like he was something precious before slowly meeting Sam’s eyes and offering that slow, honest, pure smile that was for him, that Dean managed to express the unspoken emotions that were not always easy for him to put into words.

Right then, though, Sam’s focus had slowly moved off his recent trauma and the nightmares it had brought back to watch each move of Dean’s mouth as it glided over his stomach before going lower. “Dean…”

“Trust me, baby boy.” Dean was careful to keep his left hand on Sam’s hip, letting his fingertips caress bare skin before feeling Sam’s hand reach for it in a way that he hadn’t in a long time. “You okay?” he asked, lips tracing the V between Sam’s groin and hip. “Remember what I said about this room being safe for you. This has brought back a lot of crap. Focus on me and talk about whatever you want…for as long as you can still form words that is,” Dean decided to throw in with his cockier smile just to see if he could make Sam react and wasn’t disappointed by the pure Sammy eye roll he saw.

Sam briefly debated slapping his brother on the top of the head, but he knew Dean was just trying to help. He also knew that, if he did that, Dean would more than likely draw out whatever he was planning on doing even longer, which would drive Sam nuts.

“I’m not made of glass, Dean,” he did say a second before he swore his eyes might have rolled back into his head at the first feel of fingers feathering down the length of his cock. “Fuck!”

“No, you’re not,” Dean agreed in the deeper, huskier tone that said he was fighting both his own needs as well as emotions as he looked up to see Sam’s eyes were now nearly all pupil so he had to make a choice in how far to take this right then. “You are, however, the only person I will ever say these words to… I love you, Sam Winchester.”

Sam’s eyes had closed on the feelings of fingers teasing over his cock, when they suddenly snapped open at the use of his complete name, something his brother had never used until right then. His eyes flew to Dean’s, and the steady look gazing back at him took the younger man’s breath away with its intensity.

Silently telling himself that he was not going to break into an emotional mess over the use of his own name, Sam had to swallow a few times until he was able to return the words without his voice shaking more than it did.

Then it was like something inside him let go. All of the recent emotional turmoil and dark memories lifted away as Sam’s eyes locked on Dean’s to see the passion that lay just below the surface of his brother’s calm façade as he leaned up to catch Sam’s mouth in a slow, deep, loving kiss before pulling back with a wink.

“Watch me, baby boy,” Dean’s voice was now low, gravely, and intense as he slid his body back down after taking a brief moment to shed his jeans as they’d gotten to the point of painful with the way his trapped and leaking cock had been pressed against the zipper. “Keep those eyes on me, Sammy.”

Watching Dean as he slowly took the length of Sam’s cock into his hand like it was something fragile made Sam shudder. But what nearly did the younger man in right there was the sight of watching the head of his red, weeping, and engorged cock slip past Dean’s full, soft lips as his brother began sucking on it slowly at first before beginning the slow slide up the length of it.

Deep throating was not something Dean did often, even with Sam; not because he couldn’t, but because he chose not to. He found he wanted his focus on Sam and making sure his brother was enjoying himself and not on trying not to choke. He loved being able to look up and watch the expressions of pleasure on Sam’s face.

That night, Dean was watching Sam’s face closely while also using the fingers he’d slicked up with lube earlier to slip back behind Sam’s balls to slowly trace the rim of Sam’s puckered hole with a single finger. He felt his brother’s body start at the unexpected touch, but he merely waited until he saw wide, dark eyes meet his as Sam gave a shaky nod.

By the time Dean could comfortably insert and move three fingers up inside Sam’s ass, the elder Winchester was certain he’d burned the picture of Sam’s face that he’d been watching into his brain while using his mouth to work up and down on the length of the cock in his mouth.

Sam’s eyes had drifted closed a while back once he’d given himself over to the feelings and emotions building between them without any actual words. He’d tensed at the first touch of Dean’s finger touching his ass, but pushed aside the flicker of memories that had wanted to come from other, darker times and slowly allowed himself to relax into the safety that was always there with Dean.

Listening to the mumble of words that he knew Sam had no clue he was saying, some of which had him wishing he’d made some people pay more for ever hurting his brother, while other things had his eyes widening and wondering what the hell kinds of porn his baby brother was watching when he wasn’t around. At one point, he wasn’t even sure what the hell kind of obscure language came out of Sam’s mouth when Dean had raked his nail up along the sensitive nerve on the underside of cock in his mouth just to see what reaction he’d get. He just hoped Sam had not inadvertently summoned something he’d have to fight while naked.

Sam’s fingers had finally worked their way from being clenched in the comforter to trying to find any type of hold in his brother’s much shorter hair, and he gave a short curse of frustration when that failed. A sudden pinch to his thigh had his eyes opening to stare blankly down until Dean’s eyes came into focus and he realized he might have gotten a little too distracted or too bossy in his now severe frustration and need for release.

“De’n…ummm…I…need to…gonna…” Sam figured he wasn’t making sense, but saw that his brother understood when he saw Dean’s lips quirk up around where he was still slipping up and down on his cock, giving a small nod that he understood. “You…I’m gonna…I have to…oh my God,” he groaned, reaching a shaky hand up to meet Dean’s as he reached up with his free hand, fingers meshing as their palms touched and Sam realized that Dean wasn’t pulling off.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was that realization or the sudden touch of a skilled finger brushing against his prostate that had him coming with a shout of Dean’s name.

Having been watching and listening to Sam and feeling how heavy Sam’s balls were as Dean fondled them while still scissoring his fingers in his ass, Dean knew his brother was getting close to the edge. The taste of the now-steady stream of pre-come hitting his tongue was also a warning that he either needed to pull off or commit to this act fully.

Hearing Sam try to warn him that he couldn’t hold off the need to come much longer, Dean made the choice that he only did every now and then. He reached up with his free hand to catch and hold Sam’s shaking hand in his, letting their fingers mesh while their palms touched, and he held Sam’s eyes as he brushed his prostate with a finger and smiled to himself at the shout of his name.

Eyes locked on Sam, he pulled off until just the head was still locked between his lips and proceeded to suck a little faster as the stream of come hit his tongue while watching and listening to the exquisite sounds Sam was making as he worked him through his orgasm.

It never failed to affect Dean as he watched or listened to Sam during a climax. His younger brother was always an open book of emotion, but during his climax, he seemed even more so. And tonight, as a sudden rush of raw emotion hit him while slowly coming down from the climax, it seemed like every emotion, every feeling he’d been burying recently came out, and only the strength of Dean’s hand holding his kept Sam from breaking like he was afraid he might do.

Dean saw the break happen in Sam’s walled-up emotions the second it happened, and was quick to give the hand he still held a squeeze to remind his brother that he wasn’t alone. He gave a couple more deep licks over the head of the cock in his mouth, when instinct told him it was time to pull off as he knew Sam’s cock would now be too sensitive to touch.

Pulling off with a wet pop while wiping off his other hand on the comforter, he moved up the bed so he could catch Sam’s face between his hands and kissed him deeply, allowing more heat into this kiss as he felt Sam lean up into this one more than he had earlier.

“Are you awake enough to go one more time?” Dean asked, chuckling at the simple nod he got. And while he seriously doubted Sam was, he also suspected what his brother still wanted. “Tell me what you what from me this time, Sammy.”

Sam was exhausted, emotionally and physically, if he were to be honest with himself. He knew his emotions were stretched and would break fully soon, but before they did or he crashed for the next 24 hours, he blinked until Dean came into focus. “I need to feel you inside me, Dean,” he said, dropping his eyes and had no trouble seeing that his older brother had been so focused on him that he hadn’t allowed himself any relief yet. “I want to feel you come inside me now.”

“You are still such a bossy bottom,” Dean smiled but nodded. With a quick move, he surprised his brother by dropping over onto his back at the same time as he shifted Sam easily until he was straddling him, knowing Sam’s still healing injuries would not allow him to be on his stomach. In response to the adorable look of confusion on Sam’s face as he quickly found his balance, Dean grinned up at him. “Don’t want to hurt you, Sammy, so we’re going to do it this way tonight. Don’t worry. You’ll still get to feel me filling you up, little brother.”

Sam hadn’t been sure he could get hard this soon and still wasn’t, but he did feel a slight stirring at those words and the image they presented. This wasn’t the first time they’d had sex this way, and Sam suspected his brother had another reason for choosing this position rather than just his recent injuries, but Sam chose not to mention it right then.

Lifting himself to his knees so they could both work to get Dean’s boxer briefs off, Sam took the lube that he was handed to apply a generous amount to Dean’s already slick with pre-come cock before slowly positioning himself above, but he felt his brother’s hands on his hips as if to steady him or make sure he didn’t come down too quickly.

“You sure this is okay?” he asked, unsure why this always made him nervous. It was his ass being split in two by his brother’s thick cock, which is exactly what he loved, but Sam still preferred allowing Dean full control…and that was why Sam suspected his brother had chose this. “Dean?”

“Go ahead, Sammy,” Dean encouraged with one of his sexier smirks, moving his hands from Sam’s hips so he could fold them under his head. “I want to watch you slide down, filling yourself up on my cock before I come and fill you up more with…God, you are still so damn gorgeous when you blush like that,” he chuckled.

Ducking his head and swearing one of these days he wouldn’t let Dean get him to blush, Sam eased down, placing the head of Dean’s engorged and well-past-ready cock up against his hole and slowly began to sink down onto it. “Fuck,” he groaned at the slight burning pain as his hole was spread, his inner muscles stretched more since, at this angle, he was still tight. “I’m okay,” he was quick to say upon feeling Dean begin to move as if to reach for him. “I’m okay, Dean.”

“No doubt, baby boy,” Dean murmured, eyes going to nearly all black as he watched as Sam slowly eased himself down the length of his cock until he finally came flush. “Open your eyes and look at me, Sammy,” he ordered, unfolding his arms, but he kept them at his sides instead of reaching for Sam like he longed to. “Sam?”

“I love you.”

The words were whisper soft, but because Dean’s ears were attuned to any and all sounds his brother might make, he caught them and went still as slowly Sam’s eyes that he’d closed while working his way down Dean’s shaft opened to meet his. They were dark with desire as well as exhaustion, but also wet with unshed tears.

Normally, any sight of tears on Sam had Dean becoming alarmed. While a small part of him still was, this time he thought he understood and decided to hold off on his panic…unless Sam didn’t move or speak soon. “I love you too, Sammy,” he replied as soon as he swallowed the lump in his throat, slowly moving his hand up only to have it caught so Sam could press it over his heart. “Except you do know seeing tears in your eyes while we’re making love isn’t a real good way to reassure me that you’re okay, right?”

“I’m okay, and I’m going to be okay, even if it takes some time.” Sam understood his brother was probably close to going into hyper protective mode, and since he didn’t want to ruin this moment, he pressed his hand over where he was holding Dean’s against his chest and slowly started to move his hips until he found a rhythm that worked for both of them. “If I come again, I might pass out on you,” he warned and met the smile that was offered.

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t pass out, kiddo. If you do, I’ll be here when you wake up,” Dean promised, using his other hand to reach up to brush Sam’s hair out of his face while his brother leaned closer so their lips could meet. As Dean could feel his body closing in on climax, he noticed that Sam’s cock had stiffened again, dripping pre-come.

Using a light touch, Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam’s cock just as he felt his brother lift up and come back down at an angle that finally hit his prostate. Dean held out as long as he could, until he finally lost the battle and came with a thrust up that had him hitting that spot inside of Sam again, and he felt the tight inner muscles clamp down around him.

“Yahtzee,” he murmured and just let go, allowing the rush of his orgasm to carry him over the edge while still meeting each weakening move Sam made until Dean saw a flash of white a second before Sam suddenly went limp. Dean quickly reached up to catch his brother as he finally passed out, easing him down until Sam rested on his chest like he had when he’d been much, much smaller and a lot lighter. “I’ve got you, Sammy.”

Allowing his own orgasm to wind down, Dean went limp but made no move to ease Sam off of him for the moment, content with the feel of his brother’s weight on his chest while watching with a soft smile the way Sam’s face always looked so relax, so young, when he slept after they’d made love.

Brushing his fingers back through the thick dark hair, Dean placed a kiss on the top of his brother’s head before carefully easing Sam to his side so he could ease out of him, instantly missing that connection, but he had no plans to fall to sleep before wiping them both clean of sweat and come since he still remembered the one time he’d made that mistake when Sam had been 17.

Whispering softly to soothe his brother’s muttered complaints, Dean decided on just using his t-shirt for the moment since he didn’t want to leave Sam alone to go grab a wet cloth from the shower room. Wiping them both down, he grabbed a clean pair of boxer briefs and sleep pants for himself before beginning the tricky job of working his brother back into his own.

“Kid’s still part octopus,” he muttered with a laugh, ducking a long arm that was sleepily trying to find him as had happened ever since they first started doing this. Dean knew that Sam needed to feel him with him, needed to hear his heart as he slept, and wouldn’t settle down until Dean was back beside him on the bed.

Slipping back into bed on the side closest to the door, Dean smirked inwardly when, the moment he was settled, he felt Sam shifting closer until he was tucked close against his brother’s side with his hand flat over his brother’s heart.

Dean knew he could point out once again that he did not do the whole post-sex cuddling thing, except he knew it was a lost cause, one that he lost every time with Sam. Blowing out a breath that was mostly good-natured older-brother fondness, he smiled into glazed, post-sex bliss, hazel eyes as Sam struggled to wake up enough to meet Dean’s lips for a light kiss that had also become a regular ritual of theirs.

“Hmm, thank you, De’n,” Sam mumbled, arching a little as Dean’s fingers trailed up his bare back. “Thank you not only for tonight, but what you give me every day. Thank you for being – mmhm.” He was stopped by a simple kiss.

“What I give you, what I do for you, what I will always do to keep you safe, I do because it’s you, Sam,” Dean smiled into tired hazel eyes and figured he wouldn’t be seeing Sam awake for at least 12 hours if he judged the rapid blinking of sleepy eyes watching him. “I do, I give, I protect, and I love you because you’re my brother, my partner and my lover,” he smiled at the shy smile that always got him, as Sam settled back down and soon relaxed into sleep.

Staying awake for a few more moments, Dean thought of what might be coming in the way of issues or threats, and once again made the silent vow to rip the lungs out of anyone, monster or human, that touched his brother. He also would pay closer attention to anyone they might meet in the field from here on out, since he had no intention to ever allow something like this nightmare to happen again.

**The End**


End file.
